


you're my angel, come and save me tonight

by notthebigspoon



Series: Amaryllis [40]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-13 00:12:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim had planned and started an early night. Brian Wilson has a way of changing your mind.</p><p>Title taken from Angel by Aerosmith.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're my angel, come and save me tonight

“The only reason you're not dead right now is because I don't own a gun!”

Tim had come home from the game, eaten dinner and walked his dogs. He'd talked to his dad on the phone, rehashed the game and watched a couple of episodes of Family Guy. He'd brushed his teeth and crawled into bed, falling asleep with his face buried in his pillow. He had a day off in the morning, he could sleep as late as he wanted to and have a blissful day of doing nothing.

It had been a very good plan that was interrupted when Tim woke up to hear someone moving around his house in the dark. He'd grabbed a stray bat for want of any other kind of weapon, creeping into the hall and flipping the light on only to be greeted by the sight of Brian Wilson holding a bottle of tequila.

Brian just rolls his eyes. “How was I supposed to know you were actually in bed? It's not even midnight, Lincecum. I thought you'd be out on the patio smoking a joint or something.”

“Just... what are you even doing here?” Tim asks, immediately wincing because that came out wrong. “Not that I don't want you here. You know what I mean. I didn't hear from you after the game, figured you were busy.”

“Got held up.”

It's on the tip of Tim's tongue to ask what it was that held him up but before he's got a chance, Brian is pressing against him, sliding a hand through his hair and cupping the back of his head, leaning down for a kiss that renders Tim barely able to breathe. He drops the bat, fists his hands into Brian's shirt. This isn't like LA, isn't like last night, both cases where he ended up in Brian's lap. His knees are buckling and the world feels like it's falling away underneath him.

He'd never felt like this kissing Buster.

Brian starts to to pull back but Tim shakes his head, hauls him back into the kiss and starts moving backward. He's not sure how he manages not to fall over something but they make it into his room and he sprawls back on the bed. Brian just looks down at him, breathing hard. There's something like wonder in his eyes and Tim thinks he should be flattered but mostly he's impatient. He gives Brian a look.

“Now would be a really shitty time to change your mind.” Tim mutters and Brian startles before nodding. He puts the bottle of tequila on the end table, kicks off his sandals and moves onto the bed.

Tim loves this. He really does. Brian's a big guy, broad, his body entirely covering Tim's own. His hands always wander when they kiss, moving up and down Tim's body as if they have to learn every inch. He moves back when Tim sits up and the shirts come off, a mutual effort before they're falling back. 

One of Brian's legs lands between Tim's and he's pretty shameless about grinding his hips up, moaning into Brian's mouth and raking his nails across the older man's back. He mumbles something that could have been anything but was probably a plea for more. Tim's a beggar and unashamed of it, it always gets him what he wants in bed.

What it gets him this time is on half on his stomach and half on his with Brian laid out over his back, breath hot on Tim's neck. He's fucking Tim slow and deep, using his grip on Tim's hip to pull him back into it. He's whispering things into Tim's ear, how much he wants Tim, how much he needs Tim. It's like he knows all the right things to say, everything that Tim has needed to hear.

And he _means_ it. Tim can hear it in his voice and it takes his breath away. Tim's hand moves, first covering Brian's hand on his hip before sliding back and gripping his shoulder, panting Brian's name as he turns his head back for a kiss, whispering it in turn against Brian's lips, “Want you, need you, _please_.”

His hand circles Tim's cock, moving in teasing strokes, bringing him close to the edge and not quite giving him what he wants until Tim begs again. One more rough stroke and a turn of his wrist and Tim is coming with a cry of Brian's name, high and sharp. His body goes limp, rocking with Brian's three last rough thrusts before he's coming, panting and biting Tim's shoulder.

The room is quiet, nothing but the sound of their breathing as Brian dropping soft kisses over his neck, hand petting across his body slow and lazy. Later, when they've cleaned up and gotten under the blankets, they lay on separate sides of the bed, heads on different pillows. Each of them has a hand laying in the middle of the bed, their fingers laced together.

Brian asks the same question he'd asked in LA, whispering just as he had before, “What the hell is this Timmy?”

“A new start. Clean slate. Wiping red from the ledger.”

The answer seems to satisfy him and he slides forward, pulling Tim in closer. The kiss is soft, sweet, everything Tim could want and he can feel himself starting to fall.


End file.
